MAY DAY
by April Halprin Wayland

James brought
Lacy and Chase.
Grace brought
Sadie and Payne.

Every dog learned to
shake, wait
and stay,
and then they all played games.

Later,
James and Grace
savored cafe au laits
as the canines lay in the shade.

If Creator were giving
out grades today,
all of them would’ve been
As.

Poetry Prompt:  This is the last day of National Poetry Month and tomorrow’s May Day!  Some poems just land in your lap.  I was hiking with my friends James and Grace and their dogs…and began saying all those names…all those wonderful A sounds!  So it landed in my lap…and then I worked on it for nine hundred years.

It’s your turn. Go about your day on high alert, repeating names, nouns, words you hear.  Hang on to a few that tickle you.  Can you create a poem playing off the sounds of some of today’s found words?

Thank you for stopping by.  Keep splashing in words all year long until we meet again next Poetry Month!  Stay in touch–I post every other Friday at TeachingAuthors.com!

by April Halprin Wayland

Everything’s changed.
She used to float above me like a soft, white cloud.
Now her voice is sharp with lightning strikes;
she thunders at me for little things.

What happened?
She used to be sunny,
scratching my rump
or giving me that bone stuffed with peanut butter.

Everything’s changed.
Now her voice is winter
and she only gives me a bone
when I’ve done all that sit-stay-down-roll over stuff.

What happened?
There are still storm clouds in her eyes.
I wonder if pulling all the stuffing out of her couch
had anything to do with it?

Poetry Prompt:  In this poem, the first line of each stanza alternately repeats.  Repetition is wonderful seasoning for poetry, songs, and children’s picture books.  This poem is also a mask poem. I love Mask Poems.  In a mask poem, I slip inside an inanimate object or animal.  (For more about mask poems, click on my 2011 poetry month blog and scroll down to April 14th.)

There are lots of metaphors in this poem.  My friend Bruce Balan, who critiques my poems on a daily basis, writes:

“My problem with it is you are trying to use your metaphors and they aren’t a dog’s metaphors. They are April’s metaphors.They are very poetic, and perhaps too complex, for a dog who doesn’t understand why everything’s changed.”

I think he’s right.

It’s your turn. Use repetition in a poem.  But don’t over do it.  Once you have a pattern established, consider breaking it once or twice to wake up your readers.

Freshman Dodger John Ely is pitching his 2nd game ever in the majors
sending those balls skidding past every one of the Brewers,
making them spin like tops,
no one gets on—
what a great dance.

I was at the first game Dodger great Don Sutton
pitched for them, April 14, 1966.
I finger that small slice of history in my pocket
and sometimes bring it out,
turn it over,
smell those Dodger dogs still.

“Call us after 8 pm” they told us, “to see if
this dog has been taken or is still available.”
So in the middle of the game at 8:01, I dial
the Carson Animal Shelter,
Ely pitches another 1-2-3-and-they’re-out inning,
the crowd roars, and I can barely hear

“What? He IS?”

Colors vibrate all around:
the grass field is as green as Oz,
black sky, hot lights, red dirt,
our team’s white uniforms,
fans in Dodger Blue.

We leave before the game ends,
beating the traffic in the glint of night,
stars in the sky, we know we’re winning,
keeping those Brewskis at bay.

9pm, breezing down the 110 freeway,
we listen to the radio as the crowd gives young John Ely
a standing ovation;
then we toss out balls of our own:
Woody?
Dodger?
Skully?
or maybe just Dog.

We drive away from this small slice of history
and maybe…
maybe we’ll go to the shelter tomorrow morning at nine a.m. sharp
and maybe we’ll get that lanky, licky, sweet-eyed teen-aged dog
and maybe
just maybe
we’ll name him Ely.

Poetry Prompt: This is our dog’s adoption story.  We changed the spelling of his name, but this is why he’s named Eli.

It’s your turn. Whose birth story do you want to tell in a poem?  Do.

With birthday money,
I buy the one with pigtails
brown skin
white apron over her gingham dress
holding a pet duck.

I put them in the center
of our dining room table
so visitors can see her
and know how artsy
we are.

I stand in the sunny doorway
every morning
and look at her.
My whole body
laughs.

Our dog’s nose
is higher than the dining room table.
The doll’s left pigtail
comes loose from her scalp
in the encounter.

Now the doll and the duck live higher
on top of the dryer in our laundry room.
My friend Shirley sewed her left pigtail back on
and it looks fine
above her white bead smile.

No one knows how artsy we are.
I stand in the dark doorway
every morning
and my whole body
laughs.

Poetry Prompt:

A poem doesn’t have to have everything. Sometimes it’s just one thing: humor, language, image. Sometimes painting a clear word picture is enough.  I think that staying in the present tense can mean there’s no wall between the poet and her readers.

It’s your turn.  Draw us a word picture.

Take the leash, Kid, take the ride.
Yep—it could be to the vet.
Or maybe waiting in the shade.

Or a romp on the beach.
Heck—it could be a ham bone
after heel-sit-stay.

All within reach, Kid,
if you just
take the leash.

Poetry Prompt:  I love reading a book or a poem with attitude. The speaker has a pose, a point of view; you know that person, you know someone with that exact personality…probably someone in your own family.

It’s your turn. Think of someone with a strong personality–good or not-so-good.  See if you can strike a pose as you write a poem with that person’s voice.

We are lucky
to have not one
but eight Eiffel Towers
linked by wires
marching over the dog park.

It’s so dark,
you can hardly see the four dogs
cavorting beneath them
but take my word for it—
they are cavorting,

galloping in huge invisible circles
drawn by Eli’s tinkling tags, Gracie’s snorting,
Emma Jane’s boisterous barreling over woodchips and mud,
and the wet sound of Duke
sliding across cement into the dog drinking fountain.

Could they be powered by these tall towers?
Could these towers be charging
not only the tangerine lights across the street
but these romping hounds
bounding in the blackness?

Poetry Prompt: My friend Sonya Sones has taught me so much about writing poetry.  One thing she’s taught me is the power of asking questions.

It’s your turn. Write a poem that includes some questions.

You curl,
a cooked piece of pasta
on the round rug,
squeaky panda under your paw

You run,
flame on a rope,
focused, fast
chasing in the dog park

You play,
jumbo baby,
beguiling eyes,
lanky legs kicking in the air

Your whole
galumphing self
speaks loud, alive:
love me!

Poetry Prompt:  Alliteration, assonance and consonance are some of what Myra Cohn Livingston called the poet’s tools.

Each of these definitions and examples is from About.com:

Alliteration: The repetition of an initial consonant sound, as in “a peck of pickled peppers.”

Assonance: The repetition of identical or similar vowel sounds in neighboring words.  Example from a campaign button: I like Ike

Consonance:  Broadly, the repetition of consonant sounds; more specifically, the repetition of the final consonant sounds of accented syllables or important words.  Example from Dylan Thomas:  Do not go gentle into that good night.

Find examples of each in this poem.

It’s your turn. Write a poem using at least one of these poet’s tools.

I have no rain inside my house,
no grass instead of rug,
no tiny living dinosaur,
no belching monster bug.

No piano-playing fish with wings,
no daffodils on skates,
no snowmen in my bottom drawer,
no unicycling kings.

But do I have
a waggish dog?
Oh, yes, I have
a dog.

So, there’s no end of wonders
nor subjects
for a poem
in our exciting, topsy-turvy, dog-invaded home.

Poetry Prompt:  Sometimes you have to get your sillies out.  And look what I discovered: the word waggish means “ roguish in merriment and good humor; jocular”…how perfect is that?!?

It’s your turn. Get your sillies out–write your own silly poem.

They went away.
They came back today.

Life is complete.
I’m going to sleep.

Poetry Prompt: We just got back from a few days at UC Berkeley.  The weather was perfect, we went on a dream hike with our son, I am swooning with happiness.  When we picked him up at our dogsitter’s, Eli seemed glad to see us.

It’s your turn. I have nothing to say to inspire you.  Write a funny poem, maybe?  See things from another point of view?  But I’ve said that before.  How about this: play, play, play!

Our dogsitter knows
just enough
to wonder
why
the dog
looks
so
guilty.

Poetry Prompt:  Our student dogsitter took an adorable photo of Eli stretched out, asleep on our living room couch.  It was adorable…except that Eli’s not allowed on that couch.  And he knows it. She didn’t.  I changed the story in the words above, but my intent was to paint a picture in as few words as possible.  I admire so many of  Valerie Worth‘s Small Poems–a whole world in a few words.

It’s your turn. Can give your readers a complete picture in just a few words?  Try.